Page 69 of Howl for the Gargoyle

He groaned, untangling me from around him, reaching back and unsnapping the shoulders of the coat.

"Come on," I said breathlessly, snatching my coat from the floor and running safely out of reach up to my door.

Rafe slowed as he followed me inside of my apartment. I owned the top two stories of the building, a wonderfully renovated layout in a classic lakeside graystone, and Rafe paused at the threshold of the great room. I hesitated too, suddenly nervous to be here with him. It was all well and good to feel that hungry certainty that Rafe was my person, but the reality of us was that we'd only really known each other in neutral territory. This was my home, my den. Part of me was deeply, instinctively satisfied to bring Rafe to this space, the rightness of having him in my home a tangible warmth and weight in my chest. The other part was vibrating with nervous anticipation. What if he didn't like it?

But he smiled as he took in the rich fabrics, the deep jewel colors and the layers of textures, the delicate antiques and sturdy, decadent furniture. "Feels like you," he said. He met my eyes, and I was twitching with the urge to leap again, to hold him in my grip and never let go, but his smile faltered as he stared at me, and a nervous dropping sensation hit me. "Hannah, why didn't you wait until our appointment to tell me?"

I heaved out a sigh and tossed my coat onto the hook. When I crossed to Rafe, he didn't hesitate to reach for me.

"I meant to talk to you before the appointment, but I got anxious and fucked up. I was on the phone with some squirrelly MSA agent, and suddenly I was having to explain why I wanted to talk to you."

Rafe hummed and nodded, hands on my hips tugging me closer. But those beautiful hands were bricks of ice without the protection of my coat, and I shivered again for less pleasant reasons.

"I only saw your cancellation last night, not the interview," he said, eyes flicking back and forth against mine. "I was afraid you were going to apologize."

"I was," I admitted. "But not for not wanting you. Just for wanting you too much."

His expression relaxed, and his eyelids drooped as he gazed down at me, all the warmth of his stare pooled low in my belly.

"Well, in that case, I owe you an apology too," he murmured.

"Rafe. You really, really don't." I rose to my toes, and he yanked me into his chest, our mouths sliding together. But where I was starting to feel the tingle of my hot blood warming my skin again, Rafe was still ice cold. I hissed into the kiss and then leaned back, reaching up to comb icicles from his hair. "What's the fastest way to warm you up?"

His grin was lazy. "I think you know."

I laughed and tugged him along with me, guiding us towards the stairs up to my bedroom. "Second fastest?"

"Hot shower."

I nodded. "Good. We'll be efficient and do both in that case." I turned away to walk up, and Rafe groaned behind me, his hand tightening around mine.

"Fuck, Hannah. Have I mentioned how sexy you are when you're all wet and slippery?"

I bounced on my toes as I dragged Rafe along with me, entering my massive bedroom. It took up most of the second floor, aside from my bathroom and a small balcony that overlooked the local buildings' garden.

"Well then you'll be excited to know that I am extremely wet and probably very slippery at the moment," I teased.

Rafe growled, and then chilly arms snatched me up, charging for the bathroom door I'd been leading him toward. "Jesus, this really is a rock star's apartment," Rafe murmured as we entered. "We should've been having appointments here."

MSA had suggested it, but at the time I'd been too terrified of myself to let my werewolf roam free here. Now that I knew that the only damage I managed was in the heat of the moment with Rafe, and generally just to whatever linens we were in contact with, the idea of spending the full moon tucked away in my home with my…gargoyle sounded lovely.

"I don't suppose they'll let me rebook now," I laughed.

Rafe paused, setting me down on the large woven mat in front of my walk-in shower. "Well, I hope not 'cause…I kinda quit…yesterday."

I'd been in the middle of pulling off my shirt, and I was tangled inside of the cotton when he spoke. I wrestled my way out and found Rafe blinking at me, eyes wide.

"You what?"

"I lost my favorite client," Rafe said, shrugging sheepishly, his eyes already sliding down to my chest with an eager glint. Which only made the part of me not currently startled by the declaration more determined to shove the conversation aside and warm up with Rafe in any possible way. "I'd…already lost my enjoyment working there, but I didn't know what else to do. And then you showed up, and suddenly I really liked keeping my job because it meant time with you and—"

My control snapped, and Rafe grunted but he met my kiss with equal force. And I didn't care that his fingers were frozen—it just made my skin sing and quake and tremble. I leaned into his chest, my nipples pebbling and aching in my lace bra, and Rafe's hands tightened on my ass, holding me to him as I kicked my boots off. This time I knew the secret to his clothes and I grappled at his back, finding the snaps that loosened his shirt.

"It's not the same," he breathed against my lips. "Nothing with you was ever the same. It wasn't even work lately. Did you mean what you said in the interview?"

His shirt was drooping down his chest, and I stepped back, watching greedily as he finished stripping it away and then moved to his pants.

"Hannah," he prompted, eyebrows bouncing even as he pushed his pants down his hips. And how was I supposed to focus on questions when it'd been weeks since I'd seen his cock and my mouth was watering and my cunt was throbbing? "Do you really think I'm your mate?"

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